The Goat Sisters
by Felix O'Malley
Summary: A re-telling of The Goat Sisters chapter mainly from Diana's point of view. After receiving the love letter from Meg, Diana finds this a good opportunity to confuse her and rope Jennifer into the mess. For who could ever love an ugly old woman like her?


**The Goat Sisters**

**September, 1930**

Outside the orphanage, wet fallen oak leaves were beginning to gather in large heaps near the front gate. Trees and plants began to wilt and wither: thorny branches stunted in growth and damp brambles beginning to curl back inside themselves. The skies were becoming greyer, the nights were becoming longer, and time itself seemed to be ceasing as another year prepared to die once more and give birth to a new one. Autumn was Diana's favourite season. She loved to watch things become bland from colour and slowly die; liked to observe the natural world suffering because of its own peculiar cycle. The world killed itself every year and Diana had a strange fascination with it. Every evening she would stare outside the window when finished with her chores, or if it wasn't too cold, sit outside in the garden and play with the soggy leaves. Breathing in the chill dusky air was cool and refreshing to her lungs, and made her feel full and whole. Time itself would stand still for a few moments and she became trapped comfortably inside herself with only her own thoughts, her own songs, her own words, her own pictures to focus on. It was the only time where she truly felt like what she was – a Duchess; a Princess – The Strong-Willed Princess. The girl that no one could knock down; the leader of the Red Crayon Aristocracy; the highest ranking of Refined Class; the most powerful girl beneath the beautiful Princess of the Red Rose. Solitude is good for the soul and good for the mind, and Diana needed solitude. Not a girl and yet not a woman. Looking so forward to growing up but afraid of it happening too fast. She seemed stuck in a twilight phase of her life. Time to herself was needed.

But tonight was not a night of solitude.

Heavy footsteps came thundering towards her from the front door. The smell of the crisp Autumn air was quickly tainted with the stench of musky rags. Annoyed, Diana turned slowly to see Amanda galumphing towards her clumsily with her large bulky frame. The light of the sunset bounced gently off her creamy ringlets as she waddled over: hunched in a shrivelled and nervous disposition. It was rare for Lower Class beings to interact with Aristocrats. Diana didn't even want to bother noticing her: the hatred for the girl was truly as powerful as the stench that emanated from the rags which she so tediously sewed. But something about the fat, round, ugly face told of urgency and adrenaline – was it excitement or was it fear? There was only one way to find out,

"Amanda," the Aristocrat condescendingly sung, "What do you want?"

The girl sniffed urgently and silently giggled to herself. Her breathing seemed laboured and she seemed so excited that the she was finally being addressed by someone higher than herself. She was a repulsive, stupid creature in Diana's eyes, but she sensed that she held precious information.

"Meg sent me to find you," the Rag Princess wheezed, "She wants to see you right away."

Immediately Diana became annoyed. What could that snobby little brat possibly want from her _now_? Her thoughts of frustration for the young girl raced so quickly through her head that it began to ache slightly. Frowning, she shoved Amanda out of the way so violently that she managed to topple over onto the dirty ground. The girl came crashing down with a cracking thud that managed to cause a small earthquake around her. In pain and in fear, she shielded her face and sobbed gently to herself,

"Where is she?"

"In the girl's lavatory! Please don't hurt me! She told me... she told me to-"

But Diana had already left the garden and marched back into the orphanage, violently slamming the doors behind her, leaving the sobbing, snotty mess of a lump feeling sorry for itself on the ground.

- - -

Meg listened to the echoing drips of water tapping from the sinks. She sat alone inside her own little cubicle with a dimly lit candle sending shadows darting across the marble walls. Everything she needed was here: a rose and a letter. And what a letter – a letter of feeling; a letter of emotion; a letter of sensitivity; a letter of _love_ – and all for the one she called Diana: the Duchess – _her_ Duchess. The Princess – _her_ Princess. The girl – _her_ girl. Oh what a splendid girl she was. The way her clothes snaked perfectly around her curved figure and rounded breasts. The way the sun caught off her auburn hair. The way her eyes twinkled in the golden starlight. Her alto voice. Her heavenly looks. Her scented aroma. Everything about the girl was absolute perfection in the Wise Princess's eyes, and nothing, or no one, would be able to take that way from her. No one else would walk away with Diana – _her_ Diana.

An opening door sent shivers down Meg's spine, and the closing latch made her heart skip a beat. She felt a presence with her in the room – _her_ presence. The tapping of heeled shoes against hard concrete approached the cubicle, and their owner slowly pushed open the wooden door with a face of indifference. The Wise Princess smiled, but the other princess simply locked the cubicle door and sat down on the lavatory behind the other girl. They made eye contact. There was a moment of thick, intense silence. A racing heart pumped eager blood through excited veins. The younger girl stood up steadily and curtseyed, bowing her head in submission. Diana weakly gave a poor excuse for a curtsey, which made Meg feel ever so slightly uneasy,

"You look beautiful today Diana,"

The other princess sighed,

"What do you want Meg?"

Meg subtly clutched her lower abdomen as it cramped in nervous ache. She breathed deeply. It was so intimidating to be in her presence and yet she loved her so that she endured the pain. Withdrawing the love letter from her pocket, she handed it to the red-haired Goddess,

"I have something for you,"

Diana suddenly felt a twinge of uneasiness and excitement. Whereas her annoyance ordered her to snatch the letter rudely out of Meg's hand, she took it gently and almost lovingly. It made her sick inside to show affection of any kind for the younger girl but she pushed the feeling aside for some bizarre reason. She opened the envelope in peculiar caution. The paper inside was soft and decorated in pink and red swirls. It looked like a sonnet; a song; a poem; ...a love letter?

Meg stared in obsessive eagerness. Diana took her time, like she was studying every letter and every metaphor carefully, textually analysing the entire thing. Her face remained the same: cold, hard, stern. To bridge the gap between time, Meg clutched onto the red rose she had especially picked for Diana to present at this very moment. Careful not to prick her fingers on its thorny extension, she breathed in its glamorous scent. In a way it symbolized what she was doing: holding onto Diana, her beautiful rose, careful not to make any wrong moves to meet a grisly hole to be punched through the flesh – or the heart.

Diana paused. What was this filth that was put in front of her? This tripe? This horror? This absolute disgusting wretchedness? It made her stomach churn. To think... what thoughts did that filthy brat think of her? Sighing, she did the only thing she could do: ripped the letter in half. As the paper tore and broke the thick silence, Meg's face, and heart, stooped down low. Lower than ever before. In an overwhelming urge to make the girl bleed and suffer, Diana snaked her hands tenderly around Meg's and pushed them into the stem of the rose. Meg revered back, half in pain and half in shock, as a small drop of crimson blood fell from her finger. Diana tilted her head and laughed.

All that time, why had Diana been so blind? The girl was like a disease that wouldn't go away. Always snooping around her possessions, putting on a sugar coating that was far too sweet for Diana's teeth, latching onto her arm like a gigantic leech. It was all for _love_? Someone actually dared to _love_ the Strong-Willed Princess? The thought had never come across her ever before. Why did it have to be her? Why? The one person she detested more than anyone in the world... why? Why would she even give the little leech the attention she so craved? Why did she do it?

...Why?

In cruel punishment, Diana took Meg's finger into her mouth and sucked on it. It would leave the Wise Princess not so wise. The girl she loved just ripped her love letter in half and now... she willingly cleaned the mess of a bloody finger up for her? It was to confuse and shame her. How condescending must it be to feel that low? How contaminating must it feel? How dirty, how filthy could one Princess force another to feel? To strengthen the notion of malicious intent, Diana bit on the little girl's finger. She bit on it hard.

When the smaller girl yelped, Diana slapped her to keep her quiet: like a parent who smacks their child in order for them to stop wailing, but it only increases the pain, and therefore, the wail. Meg lay silently on the ground, utterly miserable and completely ashamed. Diana put her foot on the young girl's face,

"I'd rather rip out my own eyes than ever return any feeling for you,"

And in the darkness of the bathroom in the world outside the cubicle, someone was silently watching everything going on. Someone of dark hair, a distant mind, and who carried around an empty bird-cage. And that someone, for once in their entire time spent in the orphanage, gave off the faintest hint of a weak smile.

- - -

"Hello boys and girls, how are we today? Wastepaper should go in the rubbish bin and washing should go into the Filth Room. It's time to spring clean our home! Everyone bring your buckets and dustpans and gather round, do I make myself clear, children?"

Waking up from the crumpled dormitory bed, Diana sighed at the sight of the rising sun. The haggard voice that echoed all throughout the orphanage wasn't the most ideal thing to wake up to on a cold Autumnal morning, and with the tiny blonde brat wailing in the corner because she couldn't reach her dustpan, Diana felt like jumping out the window right there and then.

But it was then that she remembered the bigger problem: Meg. The little lovesick rat who had managed to erupt so much emotions inside Diana that no punishment was big enough for her. The encounter as the other children walked sulkily to the main hall was awkward and silent, and neither of them could keep their eyes off the two pieces of lovely pink paper sitting patiently on Diana's bedside table. Just looking at the swirling pink letters sent hurricanes of rage through the Strong-Willed Princess's mind. Deep inside of herself, Diana knew that she was probably overreacting... or was she? It wasn't the fact that a girl uglier than a thunderstorm had become so blind by infatuation as to cling onto the girl's every limb, it was the fact that someone, anyone, had decided to _love_ her. Why would someone love a girl so proud, so selfish, so vane about herself? She was better than anyone else in this entire orphanage, and her ranking in the Aristocracy blatantly showed that. Why would someone so low that they were one step away from becoming Lower Class dare to do that to her?

Diana slammed both her brush and dustpan to the ground,

"Sly little brat,"

Eleanor stood by the doorway; a silent pedestrian observing a dangerous road,

"Mr. Hoffman will be angry if you don't come downstairs soon,"

Diana looked up and scoffed,

"Or better yet, the Imps can come and sweep my mess away. Me along with it,"

The Cold Princess dared to venture further into the room, but it wasn't as if she cared enough for Diana to get on her heated side. Eleanor was always too lost, too distant to care what any other person thought of her, even if they did glare at her fiercely through burning eyes,

"She was writing you a love letter,"

Diana paused. How could she have possibly known? Did Eleanor regularly stalk Diana? Was _she_ now another victim of infatuation on the Strong-Willed Princess's part? But Diana merely stared onwards, showing only a face of indifference. No one would ever know her _true_ emotions. Behind the sadistic and proud face lay a young mermaid desperate to break the surface and explore the world outside the ocean. And would she ever be able to? Even Diana herself didn't know,

"And _that's_ why I don't like her. She follows me around everywhere, it's absolutely pathetic,"

"Oh..."

The older girl stood up and glared down hard at the dark nest of hair,

"Well? What am I supposed to do?"

Eleanor turned her face slowly away: something which she regularly did, like a trademark. And it was also something that annoyed Diana the most about the silent girl. Just as Diana was about to walk away, she noticed that Eleanor wasn't merely looking off into another world – she was alerting her to something.

Jennifer's bedroom.

The Filth Room; where Filthy Jennifer would take filthy clothes and wash them in the filthy washroom, day and night, night and day. Jennifer was a naturally curious girl... a girl who Diana detested... then again, she wasn't fond of many people in this orphanage. Everyone had their problems: Nicholas was too lazy; Xavier was too greedy; Olivia was too unhappy; Susan complained too much; Amanda was too strange; Martha was too grouchy; Mr. Hoffman was too strict and twisted; Eleanor was too mysterious; Thomas was too mischievous; Clara was too quiet; Wendy was too codependent; and Meg... need she say more?

But Diana understood. If she planted a piece of the letter in Jennifer's room, she would soon find it... and Jennifer can't just leave it at that. She would go looking for the other half. Maybe she would use that filthy puppy of hers to track its scent? Oh yes, Diana knew all about that, it was another thing she had to use against her. And if she found the other half of the letter... Diana could make Meg get angry at her, embarrass her, maybe even _punish_ her. Of course, she could just put both halves in with Jennifer now, but where would be the fun in that? If she was going to play cat and mouse, everyone would have to remember that Diana was the cat. Oh what a splendid sight that would be... oh what a poor, helpless, unlucky girl she would be... and Meg would be _so_ embarrassed and humiliated. It was a win-win situation: everybody cried, Diana laughed and taunted. Bliss.

"You know Eleanor," Diana mumbled, picking up one half of the sickening love letter, "A filthy girl does filthy deeds."

- - -

Blood on her hands. Blood on her arms. Blood on her face. Blood on her mouth.

There was so much blood.

She took the scissors and kept on cutting. The goat still whimpered in unimaginable pain. She didn't care. She kept on cutting. And cutting. Then she'd use the butcher's knife and cut again. Then the meat cleaver. Then the axe. Then back to the scissors. It was routine.

Internal organs spilled out onto the ground. They left a trail for dirt to follow. The girl was done cutting. Her blood-soaked hands held onto soft paper. Bloody fingerprints dotted the pink swirls. She looked at it once again and her anger festered...

_Diana, O Diana, I love you with all my heart._

_You're just as innocent as roses in May. Yet just as brief as a candle in the wind._

_You make me want to soar across the sky and dot the stars with my love for you._

_I'd sail to Hong Kong then back for you just to greet me and hold me in your arms._

_I'll protect you from all the bad things._

_You never have to be afraid again my darling._

_You are the one I want._

_My love for you cannot be explained in words; you are my true Duchess._

_I can be your Princess._

_Let's run away together, just you and me._

_We can get away from this terrible orphanage and all the terrible people._

_I will come and rescue you my love._

_Say to me that you love me too._

_And we can be happy forever._

_I never want to lose you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you!_

_I love you._

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

- - -

"There you are," she said softly,

"_There_ you are," she said sourly.

Jennifer paused in shock. Holding the two pieces of letter – one bright pink and the other pale red – she stared on at the two Princess's standing in front of her. They were going to frame her for killing the goat, weren't they? They were going to tattle to Mr. Hoffman and he'd scold her again! She tried desperately to stand in front of the corpse spilling out of the clock as if it didn't exist. But then Meg walked slowly through the door...

She stopped and turned. Adjusting her glasses, her eyes were fixed on the letter, and her face contorted into an expression of confusion and fear,

"Why do _you_ have it?!"

Sprinting over, she snatched the letter out of Jennifer's hand and ran to Diana, sobbing into her bosom. Diana looked down and stroked the Wise-Looking Princess's hair and... was she... was she smiling?

"How could she? How could she do that to me?!" she cried through heavy sobs, "What did I ever do to her?! I can't get along with girls like her..."

And then Diana looked up to Jennifer, stabbing her eyes with a look of evil satisfaction. Meg turned her face slowly, tears and snot washing down the pain-stricken face,

"It's into the Onion Bag for _her_..."

- - -


End file.
